First-years, Matt reckons, are probably the worst plague to blight the earth since the frogs and the locusts and that business with the first-borns. Certainly he was one once. He doesn’t remember ever indicating an interest in carolling.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!”

They are barricading the doors to the Dining Hall. Warbling away with manic grins on their faces. “Go away,” Matt tries in a commanding tone as they surround him. “Go on! Shove off!”

“You have to give them money,” says a deep voice behind him. Carlos tosses a coin at the small Jap kid heading the carollers. “Move along, Ashiya. Stop harassing hungry people.”

Ashiya grins winsomely at him. Everyone grins winsomely at Carlos. “Kudasai, Carlos-sama, it’s for charity!”

“I mean it. Move along.” The crowd of carollers parts for Carlos, Matt struggling along in his wake and scowling inwardly. There is no worse blow to his dignity than having to be daily rescued by Carlos from first-years.

“Can’t you book them?” he asks.

“No, Galadriel’s given them grants.” Carlos runs a hand through his spiky hair and greets a passing Shellie, who flutters her eyelids in response. Matt rolls his eyes.

Alice is sitting alone at the breakfast table, slicing and spearing her sausages with effortless precision. No carollers, of course, accost her.

“Good morning,” says Carlos, sliding into the seat next to her. Matt briefly considers seating himself on her other side, but decides that would be too forward and instead heads round the table. “G’morning,” he mumbles.

Alice glances up at him briefly. “Morning.”

“Well,” says Carlos, standing up again, “I’m getting breakfast. You want anything?” This to Matt.

“Uh, no,” mutters Matt, “s’okay.” He wills Carlos to disappear faster.

Carlos heads for the spread, and Matt is alone with Alice. Alice continues eating in silence, occasionally sparing a hand to push back a rogue strand of blonde hair. Matt takes a deep breath. Best get it over and done with now, when they’re alone, rather than later. He definitely isn’t going to do this in front of J.D.

“Um, Alice?”

Alice looks up. She has this thing about her eyes that makes them run him through like a butterfly. “Hm?”

And that is the moment J.D. chooses to make his grand entrance. First-years scatter as he strides through the entrance and plonks himself down next to Matt. Rain strolls in at her own pace, Kaplan scurrying in her wake. “Stupid first-years,” growls J.D. “Can’t stand them.”

Rain gives him what Matt calls her eff-you smile. “Well, you were a first-year once.”

“Way once, sister.” J.D. slaps the table with one hand; the other comes down on Matt’s back so hard it nearly brings up last night’s supper. “So! What’s to eat?”

“Wait,” says Alice, still pinning Matt in her gaze, “Matt was saying something.”

J.D. shoots Matt a look of mock incredulity. “Matt was saying something?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Matt hastily shrugs J.D. off and stands up. “I’m getting breakfast.”

Things haven’t improved when he returns with his sausages. Jill and Nikolai have turned up too, Jill having augmented her perennial tube-top getup to resemble a Santarina outfit. Matt has no idea how she goes day-in-day-out strapless. Either she’s curvier than she looks, or her circulation is going to murder her when she’s forty.

Rain and J.D. are trading machismo-loaded jibes across the table as Kaplan fiddles with his handheld radio. Jill is openly flirting with Nikolai. Across from Matt, Carlos has engaged Alice in conversation. Carlos is one of the few people who can make Alice smile, thinks Matt bitterly. He feels supremely out of place here.

Of course, it could be worse. He could not be here.

He doesn’t spot the carollers, who have given up on ambushing seniors at the entrance and have now sneaked up behind them. Matt nearly falls into the mustard as voices behind him burst suddenly into song.

“IN THAT LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM, WE RAISE OUR GLASS, YOU BET YOUR – ”

“What the – ” roars J.D., spinning around so violently that his uplifted arm strikes one of the carollers and sent him flying.

The carollers break rank and converge on their fallen comrade with cries of “Roger’s down! Check his pulse, Angel, is he still breathing?” One of the first-years, a little Hispanic vixen with frizzy hair, strides up and pokes J.D. in the bicep. “Bastard! What’d you hit him for!”

J.D. seems close to exploding; he rises to his feet so menacingly that the girl backs off, but then he freezes as a voice snaps: “Touch my sister, you schmuck, and I’ll ream you with a twist drill.”

Stepping deliberately in front of her little sister, Gail sashays up to J.D. and sticks her chin up right in his face. The entire table freezes: if a gang war erupts, it’s best to be on your toes so you can rush the nearest exit.

A repetitive thudding sound catches Matt’s attention. Further down the table, Miho is throwing her butter knife into the table, picking it up, throwing it again with such force that it goes into the wood to the hilt despite its bluntness. “Cool it, J.D.,” hisses Carlos urgently, “seriously, man, it’s Christmas!”

Seconds tick by like millennia. Then J.D. finally lowers his fist. “I don’t hit little girls,” he mutters.

“Good to know,” purrs Gail. She spins on a stiletto heel and sways back to her clique, calling over her shoulder to her sister as she goes. “Mimi, take your little squeak friends and scram. No more carolling, you hear me?”

Rain sniggers. “Don’t hit little girls? Christ, J.D., did you just let Gail Marquez serve you your balls on a silver platter?”

J.D. swells again, but there is the clink of cutlery, and Alice stands up. Everyone falls silent.

“It’s getting too noisy in here,” says Alice. “I’m going for a walk.”

She leaves the table. Matt stays frozen for a couple of seconds before he realizes his chance is slipping away before his eyes. There’s nothing for it. He grabs his bag, scrapes back his chair and runs.

He catches up with her at the side door. “Alice! Um…”

Alice turns and fixes him with a puzzled look. Matt scrabbles in his bag desperately and comes up with a small wrapped parcel. “Um. It’s for you. Merry Christmas.”

Alice takes the parcel slowly. She appears shocked, which is like a once-a-century occurrence. “Oh…thank you, Matt. That’s very nice of you.”

“Well, yeah, you’re welcome,” babbles Matt, “hope you like it, that taking a walk thing sounds like a great idea, think I’ll do it too, bye!”

He escapes across the dining hall so he doesn’t have to keep looking her in the eye any longer. “Hey, Addison, did you just – ” calls J.D. as he passes their table, but Matt ignores him.

The carollers, waiting in ambush at the main entrance, pounce on him. “IN EXCELSIOR DEEEEOOO – ”

“Go to hell!” shouts Matt, and surprisingly doesn’t notice when they meekly scatter to let him pass through.